


Requite My Love

by hazelNuts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, Christmas Cookies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Chris Argent/Melissa McCall, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Snow, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: Scott and Stiles are away at a hotel for the weekend, enjoying the snow, good food, and fluffy towels. They're there just as friends, but the hotel staff seems to think they're together. Stiles doesn't mind, especially when it's getting them free food. Except... maybe he does mind, a little bit. It's hard not to be a little upset about not dating the guy you're in love with when everyone else seems to think you make such a cute, and convincing, couple.





	Requite My Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allirica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allirica/gifts).



> This one is for [allirica](http://allirica.tumblr.com/)! I hope you like it, and that your holidays are amazing and wonderful and everything you hope them to be! You really deserve that! Lots of ♥♥♥ from your Secret Santa

Stiles’ heart is pounding so fast it feels like it might break through his ribs. His breathing is shallow. It needs to be, or the little clouds that will form in the cold air will give him away. He presses his back against the tree. He gives himself ‘till the count of three to prepare himself, then looks around the tree trunk, scanning the area beyond.

_Where is Scott? He needs to find Scott._

There’s no trace of his friend. The woods are quiet except for the occasional clump of snow that falls out of a tree. They might even be called peaceful, if Stiles didn’t know what is lurking out there. In the shadows. In the trees. He turns back and stops breathing altogether. His heart stops, too. He swallows his terror down.

_Well, he_ _’s found Scott._

Scott’s eyes are blazing bright red. His lips are pulled back in a snarl. The look in his eyes sends a chill down Stiles’ spine, which isn’t that impressive considering it’s freezing out and he’s standing in almost a foot of snow.

Stiles tries to  back away, but there’s a tree at his back.

‘Scott…’ he pleads, holding up his hands.

All Scott does is grin wider. A terrifying grin that shows all his teeth. _Oh my, what big teeth you have._

Stiles steps to the side. Steps back. Needs to get away from those sharp teeth and fiery eyes. He stumbles over a tree root and falls backwards, cold snow immediately soaking through his jeans, freezing his ass and legs. Scott’s grin turns triumphant.

‘No. Scott, don’t–‘

Scott pounces. Stiles turns onto his front, tries to scramble away, and realizes to late that now his back is exposed to the werewolf. Big mistake. He thought he was cold before, but it’s nothing compared to when Scott shoves a handful off snow up his shirt.

‘ _Aaaah_!’ Stiles squeals. He grabs a handful of snow of his own and shoves in Scott’s face, hoping it’ll get him off his back. It doesn’t work. The next handful of snow goes down the back of Stiles’ pants. ‘Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,’ Stiles breathes. ‘You’re such a fucking asshole!’

Scott rolls off him, laughing, and Stiles finally manages to scramble up. He doesn’t try to get the snow out of his shirt or pants, most of it’s already melted. Instead, he starts piling snow onto Scott’s face until his “friend” has to sit up, spluttering and coughing up half-melted snow.

‘I got you good.’ Scott grins at him proudly. His eyes are back to their usual warm brown, and his fangs are gone, too. He looks so happy about his little trick, that Stiles has a hard time keeping his annoyed face on. Nobody should be that adorable.

‘Yes, you did,’ Stiles grumbles. He wraps his arms around himself. ‘Fuck. That’s really fucking cold, you dick.’

Scott gets up and brushes the snow off himself, then does the same for Stiles. Stiles likes to pretend Scott takes a little longer than he needs to.

When they’re both mostly free of snow, Scott offers his back to Stiles. ‘Piggyback ride to make it up?’

Stiles considers shoving snow down Scott’s coat instead, but then he’ll have to hike a mile through the snow with a freezing ass. The realization that he can burry his cold nose in Scott’s warm neck, both warming his nose and annoying Scott at the same time, seals the deal. He jumps onto Scott’s back and clings tight.

‘You get me a hot cocoa when we’re back at the hotel and we’re even.’

‘Deal.’

Scott keeps regaling his victory over Stiles as they walk back. Stiles lets him. As long as Scott is talking, he can quietly plot his demise in their next snowball fight.

He drops down from Scott’s back when they reach the hotel, and they stumble into the lobby, laughing and covered in freshly fallen snow. Stiles doesn’t miss the amused looks from the staff and the other guests. The older guests look wistful, and Stiles can imagine them thinking about when they were young and in love.

Not that he and Scott are in love. At least, not both of them. He is, but he’s pretty sure Scott isn’t. At least not with him. Probably. But the other guests and staff don’t know that.

The weekend at this beautiful and cosy hotel in the mountains had originally been a gift from Chris to Melissa, but with a sudden flu epidemic amongst the hospital staff, her weekend off had been revoked. Chris hadn’t wanted the weekend he’d planned to go entirely to waste, so he gave it to Scott and Stiles. With all the romancing he’d planned, like the abundance of roses and champagne, and the fact that there was only one bed, the staff thought Scott and Stiles were a couple. They hadn’t bothered to correct the clerk who checked them, and when they got a free dessert last night at dinner, they decided to play it up a little. They’ve done weirder, and more dangerous, things for free stuff. The extra pancake the waiter piled on Stiles’ plate at the breakfast buffet that morning was well worth the little pangs he got whenever he remembered that he and Scott were, in fact, not a couple.

They brush each other free off snow as best they can, stamp and wipe their feet, then walk hand in hand to the elevator.

 _Pang_ , it goes in Stiles’ chest, right next to his heart. Totally worth it, though. It really was. Really.

He almost believes it.

The second their room door is shut behind them, they pull off their cold and wet clothes, dropping them in a pile on the bathroom floor, and start rubbing themselves dry and warm with the fluffiest towels Stiles has every used.

  _How do they get these things so soft and fluffy?_

‘Hurry up!’ Scott says. A balled up towel hits Stiles in the head. He pulls his face out of his own towel and glares at his friend. ‘They’re still serving lunch and I’m hungry.’

‘Fine,’ Stiles sighs. He almost suggests room service, but while the weekend included their three main meals, room service will come out of their own pockets; and with neither of them having any self-control when it comes to food, plus the tip for the waiter, room service would be a too expensive indulgence.

He gets up and throws open his suitcase to grab a set of dry clothes. He digs around with a frown. The more he digs, the deeper the frown.

‘No, no, no, no,’ he mutters under his breath.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I only brought one sweater!’ Stiles groans in despair. That one sweater is currently lying on their bathroom floor. He had planned to bring more. He knows he set them out, he can see them in his mind: a neat little pile of sweaters at the foot of his bed. Which is probably where they still are.

‘Just grab one of mine.’ Scott shrugs. ‘Come on. I’m hungryyy!’

‘I’m coming. God, you sound like a whiny puppy’ It’s a little muffled by the sweater Stiles is pulling over his head, but he’s sure Scott heard him. There’s not much he misses with that werewolf hearing. ‘Alright, let’s go,’ Stiles says. Scott doesn’t move, but stares at Stiles instead. ‘I’m sorry for the puppy comment. Now come on. I thought you were hungryyy.’ He puts a little extra whininess in his voice.

Scott shakes his head and smiles. ‘Right. Yeah. Let’s go.’

At the buffet, they pile their plates high with a little bit of everything and, as promised, Scott gets him a big mug of hot cocoa, with marshmallows and whipped cream. Stiles hums as he savours the warm chocolaty goodness.

‘What?’ he asks, when he realizes Scott is staring at him.

‘That’s my favourite sweater.’

Stiles looks down. He’d simply grabbed the first sweater he could get his hands on, and as it turns out, it’s the green sweater with a grey floral pattern he’d given Scott two Christmases ago. It feels soft and worn. Warmth spreads through Stiles’ chest, and he huddles a little further into the sweater.

‘My sweater now,’ he says, smiling.

Scott pouts and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest.

They spend their lunch mostly eating, and a little bit talking about their plans for the rest of the weekend; which are more eating, more snowball fights, and sending pictures of them having fun in the snow to everyone at home.

The hotel has come up with some holiday and winter related activities for their guests, so after lunch they go decorate cookies. Stiles works hard on making all his snowmen look like werewolves, and Scott makes them both a Santa that looks like them. The couple they share a table with is about their own age, and they fall into easy conversation. It sometimes surprises Stiles that they still have anything in common with normal people.

Stiles watches the other couple closely, tries to copy the small signs of affection into his interactions with Scott. But there’s not much he needs to change, they share plenty of small, casual touches, and after almost twenty years of friendship they barely need to look at each other to know what the other is thinking. And as for the fond smiles he sees Fitz throwing his fiancée, Lizzie, every once in a while, he has no doubt he gives Scott those too. Even if Scott doesn’t smile back at him like that.

After the decorating of the cookies comes the eating of the cookies with more hot cocoa, which is what they really came for. Scott cheerily devours the snow werewolves Stiles made, flashing his red eyes at him when the other couple is completely engrossed in feeding each other.

When the cookies and cocoa are gone, they make dinner plans with Lizzy and Fitz, and head back to their room. They’re need to get back into their coats and boots to can build the biggest snowman ever.

They’re rounding the corner into the lobby when Scott suddenly turns into the direction of the bathrooms. Stiles frowns, but follows him. When he falls back into step with Scott, he can feel the tension radiating off his friend. His own senses go on high alert, trying to figure out what Scott picked up. Then he hears it. Footsteps, following them. They round another corner, the door to the laundry room right in front of them. Scott suddenly turns around, his eyes blazing.

‘Please. Don’t kill me.’

It’s not what Stiles expected to hear, especially not from a girl wearing the uniform of the waitstaff: black trousers, red vest, and a white, ruffled button-up. Her sensible and shiny shoes peek out from underneath the trouser legs. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun that looks only a little less severe with the tinsel woven all throughout it. What stands out most about the girl is the absolute terror in the her eyes, laced with resignation and sadness.

Stiles looks at Scott, eyebrows raised in question. Scott shrugs, not sure what is going on either. They both thought something was about to try and kill _them_.

‘What do you mean?’ Scott asks.

‘That’s why you’re here, right?’ the girl asks. Her voice breaks. She looks and sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. ‘To kill me? You heard there was a lone witch out here, so you came to kill me.’

‘Uhm…’ Scott looks at Stiles again.

‘No, we didn’t,’ Stiles says honestly. ‘We just came here to get away for the weekend.’

‘Oh.’ The girl looks impossibly more scared than before. She backs up a few steps, realizing her mistake.

‘Out of curiosity, why are you alone?’ Stiles asks. Witches are almost never on their own. They’re very similar to werewolves in that way; they live and travel with a coven.

‘I left my coven. They were… bad witches. No, they were good witches, but they were bad people. I couldn’t…’ The girl shakes her head. ‘I didn’t want to do those things anymore. So I came to be safe from them. And from hunters. Who’s going to look for a lone witch at hotel in the middle of nowhere?’

Stiles sighs. He knows what’s going to happen next. Scott can’t help it, and Stiles loves him for it, but sometimes he wishes that Scott would stop trying to save everyone. He’s going to get his heart broken that way. He already has.

‘It’s okay,’ Scott says. He’s using his vet-voice, the voice that soothes even the most terrified bunny. Unsurprisingly, it works on the witch, too. ‘We’re not going to hurt you, in fact–‘

 _Here it comes_ , Stiles thinks.

‘–I’m going to tell you about a place where you can be safe.’

‘Really?’ The girl looks so hopeful, that Stiles would have to be made of stone not to feel anything. ‘Even from my old coven?’

Scott nods. ‘ My name is Scott McCall. What’s your name?’

‘Dahlia. Dahlia Jenkins.’

‘Well, Dahlia, I’m the Alpha of the Beacon Hills pack. It’s a safe place for everyone who wants to live in peace.’

‘And you’ll allow me to live there?’

‘As long as you don’t make trouble,’ Stiles says sternly, because one of them has to be the stern one. ‘Don’t use your magic for bad things. Don’t upset the balance. Other than that, you can do pretty much whatever you want.’

Dahlia is smiling, all trace of her fear gone. ‘I’ve always wanted to work in an office,’ she says excitedly. ‘Is that weird?’

‘Kind of,’ Stiles says. Scott elbows him in the side, and he quickly adds, ‘But if that’s what you want, go live your dream.’

‘Thank you.’ Beaming, happiness radiating off of her, Dahlia turns around and walks back to the lobby, humming under her breath and a bounce in her step.

‘That was weird right?’ Scott asks, turning to Stiles. He looks baffled.

‘You mean the fact that we just encountered a supernatural being that _didn_ _’t_ try to kill us?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yep, totally weird.’

‘We should probably keep an eye on her when we get back home.’

‘Definitely,’ Stiles agrees. ‘And call the others so they don’t try to kill her if she gets there before us.’

‘Good idea.’ Scott shrugs and smiles. ‘But until then, let’s enjoy this weekend.’ He grabs Stiles’ hand and leads him back the way they came, and to their room.

Stiles’ head is a jumble of thoughts, partly from their encounter with the witch, but mostly from the way Scott is holding his hand so casually, but firmly, all the way back to their room. Maybe he needs to stick his head in the snow when they get outside. The cold might help freeze his racing thoughts and help him think a little more clearly.

Stiles is pulling on his coat when Scott’s hand on his arm stills him.

‘Are you mad?’ Scott asks. ‘For telling Dahlia she could come to Beacon Hills?’

‘Why would I be mad about that?’

‘Because you always tell me I trust too easily. If she’s lying this could end real bad.’

‘Oh. Well, I’m not mad. I was thinking about something else.’

Scott raises his eyebrows.

Stiles wants to lie. He could lie. He could probably get away with lying. But… He’s standing in a hotel room with Scott, the room bright from the sun reflecting on the snow outside. Scott’s hair still looks soft and messy from the rubdown he gave it with the towel earlier, his cheeks are still flushed from the hot cocoa. He looks soft and cosy, and Stiles… has lost his ability to resist any of it.

‘I was thinking about how much I love you.’

Scott blinks.

Stiles swallows. _Did Scott hear what he was saying? Did he truly_ hear _it?_

Scott steps closer, his eyes roam Stiles’ face before settling on his eyes, making it impossible for Stiles to look away.

‘I love you, too.’

Stiles blinks. He heard it. Scott heard what he was saying, and he very clearly heard what Scott said. He steps closer. His hands find Scott’s sweater and grip it tightly.

‘Maybe we should postpone the snowman building until tomorrow,’ he suggests.

‘Maybe we should.’ Scott is smiling now, a big dimply smile that makes his eyes sparkle.

‘I can’t kiss you if you keep smiling like that.’ But Stiles can feel his own lips twitching and pulling into a smile that mirrors Scott’s.

‘Try.’

The first few attempts fail miserably. They can’t stop smiling and every time their lips brush they burst into giggles. Until, finally, their lips are firmly pressed together. Stiles sighs when Scott starts moving his lips against his and Scott’s arms circle his waist, pulling him closer.

They stay in their room until dinner. They don’t do much, just talk and kiss. They try to cuddle up and watch a movie, but Stiles misses most of it, because he can’t stop kissing his boyfriend. Scott’s not any different, though, because whenever Stiles decides that he’s really going to start paying attention to what’s happening on the screen, Scott distracts him with more kisses.

They have to change for dinner in a hurry. Scott almost doesn’t let Stiles change his sweater.

‘I like it when you wear my clothes. It makes you smell more like me.’

Stiles’ hand hovers of the shirt he was about to put on, then he plucks one from Scott’s suitcase and pulls it over his head. The ensuing make-out session makes them officially late.

Despite all that, Lizzie and Fitz haven’t arrived yet when they get to the restaurant. They find an empty table with enough room for four, and the moment they sit down the witch appears.

‘I’m so happy you sat down in my section,’ she says. Her eyes are shining and her smile is so big and happy that it looks a little painful. ‘If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.’

Scott and Stiles decide to simply start with their drink orders.

‘I’m gonna say something absolutely insane,’ Stiles says as they watch Dahlia walk away. ‘But I think everything’s going to be fine.’

‘Are you feeling okay?’ Scott asks with a teasing smile. He presses a hand to Stiles’ forehead. ‘That sounded suspiciously like optimism.’

Stiles takes Scott’s hand from his forehead with an exaggerated eye roll, and holds onto it, letting their clasped hands swing between them. ‘You must be rubbing off on me.’

‘Not yet.’

Stiles flushes and chokes on his spit. Of course, Lizzie and Fitz choose that moment to arrive.

‘Sorry we’re late. We forgot the time,’ Lizzie apologizes. Her cheeks are flushed and Fitz’ hair looks a little less tidy than it did that afternoon. ‘You okay?’ she asks Stiles when he keeps coughing.

‘Fine,’ Stiles wheezes. He clears his throat and looks at Scott, who is innocently sipping a glass of water. ‘Everything is perfect.’


End file.
